CHAPTER V.
HAMADAN.
Start for Hamadan—Bedding—Luggage makes the man—Stages—Meet Pierson—Istikhbals—Badraghah—Pierson’s house—Hamadan wine—Mode of storing it—My horses—Abu Saif Mirza—His stratagem—Disinterested services—Persian logic—Pierson’s horse’s death—Horses put through their paces—I buy Salts and Senna—The prince’s opinion—Money table—Edict.
A few days after the great festival Major S⸺, who was going down country, kindly allowed me to accompany him as far as Hamadan. We started one afternoon, doing the two first stages by sunset, and stopping at the post-house at Karneabad.
The weather was fine, the roads and horses good. I had by this time learnt to ride by balance only, and acquired the art of remaining in an upright position on my steed whenever he suddenly dropped as if shot, instead of going over his head by the force of momentum. The Major had a few tinned provisions, which it had been impossible to get in a place like Tiflis, and with a roast fowl or two our commissariat was well provided. The intense cold was over, and I was glad to use my goggles to protect my eyes during the middle of the day. We also never started before the light was good, which made an immense difference in our comfort.
I had invested in a native bridle, the severe bit of which enabled me thoroughly to control my horses, and, being the one they were used to, did not keep them in the perpetual state of fret that the European bit did. My saddle-bags, too, were well packed and exactly the same weight, so that I never had to get down to put them level, and they never annoyed the horse.
I had my rugs, four in number, and the same size, sewn together down one side and at the bottom, so that whichever side I might have to the draught, and of this there is always plenty, I could have one blanket under me, three over me, and the sewn edge to the wind, while, as the bottom was sewn up, the blankets could never shift, and the open side could be always kept to the wall. This arrangement, an original one, I have never altered, for in hot weather, by lying on say three blankets, one only was over me.
There is, however, one thing that I soon found out in travelling. To thoroughly rest oneself it is needful to, firstly, undress and wear a night-jacket and pyjamas; and, secondly, to sleep in a sheet. The addition to one’s comfort is immense, particularly in warm weather, while the extra weight of a sheet is not worth considering. An air pillow, too, is a great luxury.
I have been in the habit of no longer using a waterproof sheet to keep my blankets dry, but of rolling them tightly up, and then strapping them and cramming them into an india-rubber soldier’s hold-all, which ensures a dry bed, and straps handily to the saddle. This hold-all was the cause of a rather amusing adventure.
On coming home once on leave, in a great hurry, I had left Persia with only my hold-all, having given my saddle-bags and road kit to my servant. I had come direct from Tzaritzin on the Volga to Boulogne without stopping, but had to wait some hours on the tidal boat before she started. I stepped on board and asked one of the men where the steward was.
“Oh, he ain’t aboard yet, mate.”